


Move

by ericaismeg



Series: 30 Days of Writing [12]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 30 Days of Writing, Awkward Derek, Derek Takes Care Of Stiles, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-09
Updated: 2014-05-09
Packaged: 2018-01-24 03:51:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1590659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ericaismeg/pseuds/ericaismeg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles moping on Derek’s couch, just staring in the general vicinity of the TV he forced Derek to buy. He's not talking.</p><p>Derek tries <i>everything</i> to make Stiles' smile, make him laugh, make him happy.</p><p>He figures out what works.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Move

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kris (breathless_stares)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/breathless_stares/gifts).



> So I'm attempting this [writing challenge](http://foxerica.tumblr.com/post/84097258077/felicitygs-spontaneousfangasm). This is Day Twelve. The word of the day is: move.
> 
> BASED ON [THIS POST](http://foxerica.tumblr.com/post/85051649802/daydreams-and-memories-erica-aka-foxerica-said) WHERE [KRISTA](http://www.daydreams-and-memories.tumblr.com) SAID THIS:
> 
> Erica (aka foxerica) said something in a reply to me and it put the thought in my head of Stiles moping on Derek’s couch, just staring in the general vicinity of the tv he forced Derek to buy to talk at least. But Stiles just sits there and stares. And Derek’s had enough so he huffs and turns to face Stiles for one last attempt and says, “Don’t be such a SourFox, Stiles, god.
> 
> And Stiles stiffens, and swivels his head to look at Derek and then he just bursts out laughing and Derek just smiles at him so fondly and then he leans forward and presses his forehead against Stiles’ and breathes, “Finally.”
> 
> And then they have sex on the couch.
> 
> (Also for [maytheforksbewithyouluke](http://maytheforksbewithyouluke.tumblr.com/) and [ Saundra](http://saundrasays.tumblr.com/) who also wanted this once the idea was pitched.)
> 
> AND THANKS TO KRISTA FOR BEING MY BETA. All other mistakes are mine.

 

            “He’s not moving,” Derek whispers into the phone. He’s standing in the kitchen, leaning against the counter. He has a clear line of vision of Stiles, who had come in fifteen minutes ago and is currently on the couch. Stiles had just walked into the loft, using the key Derek had given him a few months ago, and hadn’t said a word. He’s ignored all of Derek’s questions, and just stared at the television he’d forced Derek to buy four months ago.

            Derek had thought Stiles wanted him to turn the TV on, but he hadn’t even blinked when he had.

            “ _It’s been tough_ ,” Scott says as if Derek doesn’t know this. Of course, Derek knows this. Derek’s been there when Stiles had woken up screaming because of a nightmare. He’d been there to soothe him back to sleep, had held him, had been there wrapped around Stiles when he woke up. Derek had listened to him cry, had seen the way he’d started to disappear into himself.

            The thing is that Stiles usually tells him what’s going on in that head of his. It’s been a few months since the Nogitsune, and Stiles had confided everything in Derek. Now, he’s wondering if the brave human has been keeping a bigger secret to himself. Derek isn’t sure, but he called Scott for advice.

            He doesn’t want to mess this up.

            “ _Try to make him laugh_ ,” Scott suggests as if Derek hasn’t thought of that already. Derek rubs the back of his neck as Scott adds, “ _You’re good at making him laugh. You can do this, Derek. You’re one of his best friends._ ”

            “I know, I know,” Derek mumbles. He sighs. “I’m just worried I’m going to get it all wrong.”

            “ _Derek, nothing you could do will change Stiles’ feelings about you. Do you want me to come over_?” Scott asks.

            Scott’s the best, but Derek doesn’t want him to come over. “No, I don’t want to overwhelm him. He came here for a reason. I’ll text you later.”

            “ _Sounds good. See you tomorrow?_ ”

            “See you tomorrow,” Derek mumbles, but his mind isn’t on tomorrow as he hangs up the phone. Making Stiles laugh shouldn’t be too hard. Stiles loves laughing. Well, Stiles used to love laughing. It’s been more difficult lately.

            He walks over and sits down on the coffee table directly in front of Stiles. He frowns, because he realizes that Stiles isn’t focused on him. He’s still gazing off at the television that Derek had turned off when he realized Stiles didn’t care about it.

            “I’m sorry,” Derek murmurs. “I called Scott, because I was worried that something might have happened that I didn’t know about. He said to make you laugh. I can do that, right?”

            He takes a deep breath. Stiles isn’t listening anyway.

            “What’s my favourite joke? Uh, okay. Something simple. Oh! Laura’s favourite joke. What do you call cheese that’s not yours?” Derek waits a beat. “ _Nacho cheese_.”

            There’s no reaction.

            Derek sighs, but Laura had had a phase of bad jokes. He tries to remember another one. He claps his hands together suddenly when he thinks of another one, and Stiles merely blinks. “What do you get when you cross a cat with a lemon?”

            There’s a moment, and Derek thinks that Stiles might be listening now, but he’s still not moving, not reacting.

            “ _A sour puss!_ ”

            Derek’s fully aware that these jokes suck. It’s also bumming him out because if Laura was here, she’d be laughing her ass off. She loved corny, awful jokes. Apparently, Stiles doesn’t. Not today, anyway.

            He’s starting to get anxious. Stiles hadn’t gone silent this long before. Stiles’ expression is blank, emotionless.

            Derek shifts on the coffee table and says, “You think I’m an awful singer but it always makes you smile. So here it goes.

 

 _You are my sunshine  
_ _My only sunshine  
_ _You make me happy  
_ _When skies are grey  
_ _You’ll never know, dear,  
_ _How much I love you  
_ _Please don’t take my sunshine away_ ”

 

            The words are sung softly, but off-key and more or less as though Derek’s mumbling a few of them. He shifts uncomfortably a couple times as the words tumble out. Stiles isn’t reacting. Stiles _loves_ how Derek sings. He always claims that Derek should try out for American Idol—he would make the TV screens based on how awful he is.

 

“ _The other night, dear,  
_ _As I lay sleeping  
_ _I dreamed I held you in my arms  
_ _When I awoke, dear  
_ _I was mistaken  
_ _So I hung my head and cried_

_You are my sunshine  
_ _My only sunshine  
_ _You make me happy  
_ _When skies are grey  
_ _You’ll never know dear  
_ _How much I love you  
_ _Please don’t take my sunshine away  
_ _Please don’t take my sunshine away_.”

 

            Stiles doesn’t react whatsoever. Derek frowns. Okay, that’s not going to work. He tells him, “Stay here.”

            It’s a stupid thing to say, because Derek is positive that Stiles isn’t going anywhere. Derek runs up the stairs, keeping his senses tuned into Stiles, and then Derek pulls a box out of the spare bedroom. Peter had been throwing some stuff out, and had given up after an hour. However, he’d jokingly come out of the spare room with a stupid red clown nose on.

            Maybe Derek’s getting a little desperate, but he wants Stiles to acknowledge him _somehow_. This should get his attention. Derek’s back downstairs as quickly as he can, and he has the red nose on.

            He sits down in front of Stiles. “What if I took you out to dinner like this?”

            _Nothing_. Derek frowns.

            Stiles’ heartbeat is fairly steady, his focus is unclear, and the mood in the air is thick with sadness and a weight that Derek hasn’t felt in a while. He leaves the clown nose on, and thinks back to all of the other times they’ve laughed together.

            He’s ticklish. Derek leans forward, and starts letting his fingers dance around Stiles’ sides. “C’mon, I know you’re ticklish. You always squeal like a girl.”

            Stiles blinks and that’s the extent of that. Derek even brings his fingers up to Stiles’ armpits and _that_ doesn’t get a reaction.

            He glances at the clock. Stiles had been here for exactly twenty-three minutes now. Dammit. Derek’s failing. Why is he failing? This is _Stiles_. Stiles shouldn’t be this broken. No, Derek needs to fix this.

            In desperation, he rushes to the kitchen. He yanks his cupboards open. Derek snatches the first thing he sees. Flour. Perfect. They’d once had a flour fight while they baked some cookies together. Stiles had giggled like a high school girl. It’d been _fun_. Derek goes back into the living room.

            He throws some flour at Stiles—hitting him in the chest. Then he does again on the face. Derek rubs his palm against Stiles’ cheek. The guy still doesn’t move. Derek’s panicking now. He dumps a handful of flour onto his head, and messes it into his hair.

            “Nothing?” he asks, frowning. “You love flour fights.”

            Heavy air fills the space between them.

            “God, Stiles. I don’t know what else to do. You won’t laugh at me. You won’t talk to me. Fuck, you’re not even _looking_ at me. Can you just _move_?” Derek asks. The words are soft and desperate.

            Nothing. Nothing. Goddammit it has been nothing for twenty-six minutes now.

             “Don’t be such a Sour Fox, Stiles. _God_ ,” Derek says. He starts to stand up, only to see that Stiles has stiffened.

            Stiles swivels his head to look at Derek, their eyes connect, and then Stiles bursts into laughter. He’s laughing. The relief Derek feels fills him up, that all he can do is look at Stiles fondly.

            There are snorts mixed into his laughter, and Derek knows that he’s truly laughing. He reaches out and brushes Stiles’ cheek. “ _Finally_.”

            “Oh my god, Derek,” Stiles says, wheezing. “Oh my god, you did not just call me a Sour Fox.”

            “ _That_ ’s what got you?” Derek says, but now he’s laughing too. “I gave you shitty jokes, I _sang_ for you, I’m wearing a fucking clown nose, and covered in flour. But no, _Sour Fox_ is what made you laugh.”

            Stiles waves his hand around Derek’s general vicinity and says, “No, no, oh god, that’s all good too. That’s so good. Why did you throw flour at me?”

            “You weren’t moving!” Derek exclaims.

            “So your solution was to throw _flour_ at me?” Stiles asks. But he’s smiling. He’s smiling so fucking widely that Derek can’t even be annoyed at him. Not even if he’s mocking him, because Stiles is smiling. Life is going to be okay.

            “What else should I have done?” Derek asks.

            “You could’ve done _anything_ else! Like surprise me with a kiss! Not _flour_!” Stiles laughs again.

            And then Derek’s lips are on Stiles’ and they’re kissing. Derek has to pull back for a second, to rip the damn clown nose off, but then he’s kissing Stiles again. There’s an unspoken desperation between them because Derek has wanted this for so long. He had _smelled_ the want, the desire, the arousal on Stiles, but there had never been a good time. There would never be a good time, Derek is learning.

            Stiles would always be haunted with the memories of the Nogitsune, Derek would always feel guilt and pain over the Hale fire, and they would always be protecting Beacon Hills from the next bad guy.

            Right now is all they have, and Derek’s going to make the most of it. When Stiles deepens the kiss, Derek’s a goner. He needs to have Stiles. As Stiles tilts his head in a new direction, Derek’s rubbing Stiles’ crotch through his jeans.

            _God_ , Stiles feels good. He’s hard and Derek can’t wait to get those jeans off. First things first though, the shirt—he pushes Stiles’ shirt up, and his lips are crawling up his chest. His tongue flicks across his nipple, and Stiles makes a noise of pleasure. Derek spends a few more seconds focusing on it, before he can’t handle it anymore. He needs Stiles. Now. Now, now, _now_.

            He starts tugging Stiles’ shirt off, only pausing to plant a kiss on Stiles’ lips. Their lips break apart again just so the shirt can be forgotten somewhere on the floor. Stiles starts taking Derek’s shirt off, but it’s taking too long, so Derek just rips it in half and lets it fall somewhere.

            They’re both on their knees on the couch now, kissing. Derek doesn’t remember moving, doesn’t fucking care. Stiles’ hands keep roaming all over Derek, as Derek cups Stiles’ face with his. He loves the way his hands feel on his skin. Derek shifts closer, chest against chest, and moans when Stiles tugs on his lip with his teeth.

            Stiles hands move to his hair, and he groans again. Then Derek leans back so he can kiss Stiles’ chest again. His lips wander down Stiles’ until he drags his tongue up Stiles’ jeans. If he had any questions about that move, they’re answered by Stiles moaning and grabbing onto Derek’s hair.

            Derek gets his hands onto Stiles’ zipper of his jeans. “Stiles, I don’t have to—”

            “Please, _now_. Rip them if you have to,” Stiles says, arching a little to press against Derek’s hands as he starts to unzip his jeans.

            “No, they’re nice jeans,” Derek mumbles mindlessly. “You just bought them last week.”

            “It’s cute that you know that, but Derek _this is happening_ ,” Stiles tells him.

            Derek doesn’t bother pulling them down just yet. He wraps his lips around Stiles’ cock and takes one hard suck. The shudder of pleasure that rocks Stiles’ body is enough to make Derek ready to come. He holds off, because he needs to make this better than good for Stiles, as he sucks him for a few minutes.

            Stiles’ is panting, and it’s the hottest thing Derek’s heard. Stiles is also trying to tug his jeans down, so Derek leaves his cock to straighten up for a kiss on the lips. It’s a quick one, and then Derek springs into action, pulling Stiles’ pants and boxers off in one motion. The damn kid has the balls to grin at him as though he’d just discovered Derek’s secret which is that Derek _can’t wait anymore_.

            “Fuck, Stiles.”

            “I know. Holy shit, Derek.”

            It takes Stiles all of a second before he’s yanking Derek’s jeans and boxers down. His lips wrap around Derek’s cock, and he’s sure this is what heaven’s like. It’s not as if he’s never had a blowjob before, but really. If this is what they should feel like, Derek’s never really had a blowjob before.

            He loves that Stiles’ has other talents for his mouth other than talking. He finds himself wearing a goofy smile at the thought and doesn’t care. The world could be ending outside and Derek’s not entirely positive that he would be able to worry.

            Derek’s pulling his own pants down when Stiles reaches out to brush his stomach. He pauses for a second, enjoying the way that Stiles is into his abs. He’d work out every day if Stiles could look at him like that forever. Derek leans down to steal a kiss and distract him.

            “You’re good to…?” Stiles asks in between kisses. Derek has no idea what he’s asking, but _yes, anything, please_.

            He’s fumbling as he pushes Stiles down onto the couch. He’s trying to get Stiles to flip over goddammit, but Stiles is clearly enjoying the view. Derek’s kissing Stiles’ face, his neck, his chest, his tummy, and then, his lips find his cock.

            God, he should’ve taken more time to appreciate the view of naked Stiles. He has time for that the next time they do this—and even if they don’t have time, Derek’s going to fucking make time. Because oh god, he has Stiles _naked_ on his _couch_. If this isn’t a wet dream come to life, he doesn’t know what is.

            He gets a rhythm going that doesn’t seem to satisfy Stiles.

            “More, more,” Stiles moans. And then a second later, he’s saying, “Oh god, less, less!”

            Derek yanks his head back, confused.

            “No, I mean, more, but I was going to come, and I just, want to,” Stiles is stammering. Well if that isn’t the cutest fucking thing ever, Derek doesn’t know what is. Stiles cheeks are flushed. “Derek, I need you to…”

            He puts his lips onto Stiles’ again, not meaning to shut him up. Really, he just wanted to kiss him again. Derek drags his tongue down Stiles’ chest again. He wonders if there’s a heaven for werewolves. If there is, Stiles needs to be there.

            “Flip over,” Derek demands, his body humming. Stiles groans as he moves, but he’s moving, and it’s glorious. “Do you know how often I think about getting your ass like this? God, it’s just as pale as I thought it would be.”

            “Um, sorry?” Stiles mumbles.

            “No,” is all Derek can say. His fingers brush against it. He has had _actual_ dreams about this. He doesn’t want to forget. He smirks when Stiles moans and sticks his butt up a little higher. “No apologizes.”

            He trails one finger across a cheek until it enters Stiles.

            “We need lube.” Derek wonders how fast he can run upstairs and be back.

            “Bed,” Stiles whispers. “Room.”

            _That’s an even better idea_ , Derek decides. He doesn’t want to stop touching Stiles.

            Derek shifts so that he can wrap Stiles’ legs around his waist. Stiles giggles a little, and Derek’s not entirely sure why. But the sound is one of the best things Derek’s ever heard, so he smiles. Stiles curls his arms around Derek’s neck. When Stiles’ lips find Derek’s skin, he wonders how long a hickey will stay on his skin before it heals, and decides it probably won’t be long enough.

            Derek stands up, and Stiles slips a little. He tightens his grip on Stiles’ ass, only feeling the way that it excites Stiles. He carries Stiles up to the bedroom grateful Stiles convinced him that he needed more privacy when he slept. He’s wondering if this is going to be enough for Stiles. He should have candles or music or…

            And Derek has no idea what else Stiles should have. He should have the whole goddamn world, because Stiles’ mouth is on Derek’s again and it’s _amazing_. Who knew the kid could kiss so damn well?

            He falls down onto the bed, probably crushing Stiles, but neither of them seem to mind. Derek feels Stiles’ fingers running up and down his back. He wants to enjoy that, but he’s scrambling to find the lube. His hands are shuffling around in his nightstand drawer. When he feels the familiar bottle, he shifts so that he’s back down on the bed with Stiles.

            “Hi,” Stiles whispers as Derek hovers above him.

            “Hi,” Derek responds. They’re both smiling. He would feel like an idiot if Stiles hadn’t reached up to brush a finger over Derek’s smile, as if finding pleasure in the way Derek is looking at him. It’s intimate, quiet, and it fills Derek’s chest with something he can’t indentify right now.

            Derek flips Stiles over in one quick motion.

            Then Derek’s mouth is there, spreading him apart. He takes his time, enjoying the way that Stiles pants, and how he’s trying to lean back so that he can touch Derek. Derek lets one of his hands roam up Stiles’ ass cheek and to the lower part of his back, but then he can’t move it anymore.

            He _loves_ having his face buried in Stiles. Loves the way he moans, and pants, and moves with him. Derek pulls back, so he can get the lube on his hands. Stiles snatches it out of his hands, rolling over, sitting up and pouring some onto his hands.

            Then he’s gripping Derek’s cock. Derek tilts his head back in surprise. He enjoys it for a few minutes, but then he feels as though he won’t be able to hold on any longer if Stiles keeps lubing him up. So he takes the bottle of lube back, and makes sure there are lots of it on his fingers. He pushes Stiles’ shoulder down, and then lifts his ass off the bed slightly.

            Derek slips his slick fingers around Stiles’ entrance. He enjoys himself as he trails a finger here and a finger there. He slips a finger into Stiles slowly, and loves watching the way Stiles has to curl his fingers into the comforter of his sheets. Derek moves slowly, deliberately, as he pushes a second finger in.

            “ _Jesus_ ,” Stiles whispers. Derek smiles. He checks to make sure that he’s ready to go, but Derek’s not entirely sure that _he_ is.

            Derek leans down, taking his cock into his mouth. He just can’t resist Stiles’ cock. He’s imagined it, wondered if it would look similar to this, had hoped. He moves rougher than he should, rougher than he means to, but Stiles is moaning loudly. Derek registers the way that Stiles’ hand is gripping Derek’s hair.

            “God, Derek, I _need_ it, you … you tease,” Stiles begs. “Please, now, I just…please.”

            “Since you asked so nicely,” Derek murmurs. Stiles doesn’t flip over this time. Derek lifts his ass off the bed. And then he’s fingering him again. He can feel how slick Stiles is from the lube, so he rubs his cock against Stiles before he starts to enter him.

            It’s slow at first, and Derek checks Stiles a few times to make sure he’s not in pain. He doesn’t seem to be, and then he arches his back a little more, ensuring that Derek’s cock is completely in.

            His breath is cut short by the feeling of it. It takes him a second to adjust, and then Stiles moves because Stiles wants it.

            _Holy fucking shit_ , Derek’s never doing this with anyone else ever again. Their motions match each other well. There’s panting from both of them, noises that Derek knows he’s never made before.

            “ _Please_ ,” Stiles begs. “Oh god, Derek, I just…keep…I’m going to… _Derek_.”

            The way he stays his name almost has him going over the edge. “Stiles, I—”

            “Yes,” Stiles murmurs.

            “Move with me,” Derek requests softly. He’s not sure why he says it, but then Stiles is moving with him and that’s all that matters. Derek keeps going, and then Stiles’ hands are on his shoulders, are at his chest, and he’s collapsing on the bed. “God, Stiles, you feel so good.”

            Stiles tries to sit up again, but he gasps in pleasure and then Derek slows down so that he can lean forward. Stiles is kissing him as Derek moves slow. Someone could have told Derek that he would be here today, doing this, and Derek would’ve laughed. How could Stiles ever want someone like him to do something this intimate?

            However, Stiles is leaning back onto the bed again. He’s moaning loud enough that Derek’s half-wonders if the rest of the werewolves in town can hear him. And Derek is so damn glad he’s here.

            “Your noises are driving me crazy,” Derek tells him, between pants. “You’re driving me… _crazy_.”

            Stiles gives him a chuckle. “I’m starting to think the same about you. _Pick it up_. I want more, Derek.”

            “More?” Derek whispers. He does as Stiles demands, and starts to move a little faster, a little harder. “Like this? Do you like it like this?”

            Stiles moans. “Yes. Yes. I… _fuck_ , Derek. Fuck.”

            “I like when you say my name,” Derek finds himself saying. Had he ever talked this much during sex before? He can almost guarantee that’s a no. The words seem to spur Stiles on though.

            “ _Derek_ ,” he gasps. “Derek, oh my god, Derek would you…”

            “Good,” Derek whispers. There’s some strange satisfaction about making it impossible for Stiles to finish his sentences. “If I had known it was this easy to make you speechless—”

            “No jokes,” Stiles says, with a laugh. He shifts one of his legs and that gives Derek an entirely new angle. He growls with the shot of pleasure. “I’m the funny one.”

            “Oh yeah?”

            “Uh huh,” is the only response he gets. “Derek, just so—I’m going to—”

            “Not yet, Stiles,” Derek tells him.

            He rocks a little harder, and then feels Stiles reaching out to touch him again. It’s what almost sends him over the edge. Suddenly, Stiles has shifted to give Derek a kiss, and then he’s fighting to hold back.

            “Please,” Derek whispers. His cock feels so tight right now that he knows he’s going to explode at the sight of Stiles’ coming. “I shouldn’t—”

            “I don’t mind…cleaning…up,” Stiles pants.

            That’s the only permission that Derek needs. He picks up the pace, running a hand over Stiles’ body when he can, and then he smells it before he sees Stiles’ coming.

            And then, Derek’s coming.

            _Holy shit_ is the only thing Derek can think. They’re hot, they’re sweaty, they’re panting, and Derek hasn’t been this fucking content in _years_. In fact, he’s not sure he’s ever felt like this. His body jerks, almost in harmony with Stiles’ jerks.

            “Derek,” Stiles says, completely spent. Derek doesn’t move just yet. He looks down at Stiles, fondly. Stiles reaches up, and squeezes Derek’s side. “Hi.”

            “Hi,” Derek says.

            “You know you still have flour in your hair,” Stiles murmurs. But he’s reaching up to pull Derek down, so Derek pulls himself out. He shifts and lets Stiles yank him down on top of him. “You look so cute.”

            “Cute?” Derek mumbles, but he’s smiling. “I’m not sure cute is a compliment after what we just did.”

            Stiles presses his lips against Derek’s, and it’s done in a thoughtful manner. He smiles into the kiss. “Cute, sexy, mind-blowing, earth shattering, whatever you want. It’s yours.”

            “Thanks,” Derek murmurs. He kisses Stiles’ jaw. How had he not spent more time on Stiles’ jaw? “Stiles, next time I’ll move slower. I just couldn’t…you are too…”

            “Next time?” Stiles asks.

            Derek stills.

            “I like the sound of that,” Stiles says with a grin. “ _Next time_ , I’m on top.”

            “Deal,” Derek promises. He’d let Stiles do anything to his body any day. “How are you feeling right now?”

            “Like a fucking marshmallow. What you just did to me might take me a while to recover,” Stiles says.

            Derek shifts so that he can cup Stiles’ cock with his hand. It jumps to life. “Oh yeah?”

            “Maybe not, but give a man a break.”

            “Okay,” Derek says. He tilts his head. “Do you want to talk about why you were sad?”

            “Later,” Stiles promises. He idly rubs Derek’s hair.

            He smiles, “Am I squishing you?”

            “No, yes, whatever, I don’t care. Don’t move.”

            “Okay.”

           

**Author's Note:**

> Again, thanks to Krista. She's wonderful.
> 
> This was her specific message:
> 
> I was picturing like Derek trying to tell joke that were so fuckin corny and punny. Also like maybe trying to sing to Stiles because he knows he sounds bad and it usually makes stiles laugh but he just blinks at the tv. And like Derek trying to tickle him but that's a fail. idk, I just want Derek to be a fail!wolf until he says "Don't be such a SourFox". Then I picture him straddling stiles and them doing the sex. So. Hi there's an inside to my brain.
> 
> ***  
> Also my favourite version of You Are My Sunshine is [ this one](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cGa3zFRqDn4) by Johnny Cash. Original song by: Jimmie Davis and Charles Mitchell.
> 
> And my tumblr is [here if you want it](http://www.foxerica.tumblr.com). (Come say hi!)


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